The Price of My Mistakes
by Duderman
Summary: Ever wondered who funded the WRO in DoC? A brooding man reflects upon his past mistakes. Oneshot. AngstHumor. R&R, thanks.


The Price of My Mistakes

I remember during my college years, I had attended many classes that I thought to be rather useless. And, being as perceptive and cunning as I am today, my young-adult self turned out to be quite right. I'm not by any means implying that the entire study is useless...just that select few of the idealists among us; the revolutionaries, shouldn't spend any lengthened amount of time studying this subject. These brilliant men in question being: those seeking a life in high military position, politics, or, stated quite bluntly: world domination.

One of these less useful subjects being: cosmology, and I will explain why.

During one of our first lectures, we were made to listen to a 61year old man explain to us things like: "We orbit a star born approximately 5 billion years ago, in a universe estimated to be about 13.7 billion years old" and "After the 'Big Bang', followed 'Quantum cosmology', and then 'Baryogenesis / Inflation', followed by 'Quark Hadron Transition' which slipped into the 'Recombination of our universe' shortly before the universe we inhabit today".

Then he launched into a 'brief' explanation of how our planet came into being, it's workings, origins, it's orbit, gravity level, all the usually crap.

Anyway... in the midst of this utterly boring lecture, a young, female student stood up quite abruptly... shortly afterwards she pointed her finger towards the board and declared, in a revelation of brilliance and subtlety: "You're wrong!".

"Pardon me? " The tombstone professor asked.

"You're wrong..." she stated again, confidently. Although she did look a little flushed...

"Care to elaborate, my dear?" The professor was now eyeing her with mild interest.

"The earth doesn't orbit around the sun, we're being carried on the back of a giant sea turtle"

No one laughed. We merely flinched slightly, our bodies still recovering from it's brief hibernation, which regularly took place between third and fifth period on Tuesdays.

The professor chuckled slightly, before looking at the girl once more, looking more curious than amused now.

"Ah, my dear... but whatever is this turtle standing on?"

She responded quickly, prepared for that very question.

"Well, it doesn't have to worry about falling... because... it's turtles all the way down!"

This response however, was met with a healthy amount of chuckling and sniggering, as is expected of breathing organisms. Picturing an endless tower of turtles, all supporting our planet is, after all, quite the sight.

Did you laugh?

I think I did, at the time...maybe. I can't remember to be honest.

But as I sit here today, just another day in the never ending torment my life has become, I can say with confidence, I am not laughing now. And I do not find it remotely funny, in any sense of the word.

Why?

Because I killed the turtle.

And I have been trying to make up for it ever since.

During my conquest for power, I held close to me, but one regret. During all the fighting, struggling, planning, hard-work and sacrifice, a part of my mind held within it but ONE regret. That regret being: Nothing.

Nothing at all.

All these thoughts, memories and statements race through my mind as they always do when I make this very same phone call, punch in these very same numbers, and transfer this very same amount of 6.78 Billion gil to a private account in Junon.

The lucky bastard on the receiving end of my generosity being: Reeve Tuesti, founder and commander of the WRO, The World Regenesis Organization. An organization set on protecting, restoring and maintaining our planet. The good guys.

I ask for but one thing in return from these so-called 'good guys': To never, not ever, ask for my identity. Not ever.

You know why?

Because I don't want the poeple of this godforsaken planet to think that I'm trying to make up for what I did.

I don't want them thinking that I'm sorry.

Once again, you know why?

Because I'm not. I have no regrets for what I did. None. And I'm not in the least bit sorry.

But I do have a debt to repay, a debt that is so massively huge, I could probably send this amount of money every month for the rest of my life. Well... not the rest of my life... but maybe another good few years...

My train of thoughts were interrupted by an infernal ringing. It took my fatigued, bitter and half concious mind a good few seconds to recognize the ringing of a telephone.

"Sir, all amounts from accounts 1873-153, 1874-153 and 1922-101have been succesfully transferred to the anonymous, private account in Junon, this month's amount adds up to 6.7893 billion gil.

"Outstanding. Think of all the profit I must have made from pouring astronomical amounts of funds to a cause, a cause that is literally non-existent to me, and unable and unwilling to pay the amount back in any amount of years of decades to come".

"Seeing the planet in _good _hands for a change is payment enough for me, _sir_".

"Then go ahead and reap the benefits" I couldn't help but sigh after having processed this 'cheek' I had received from this old hag. A receptionist at that.

"What's your name?" I asked abruptly.

"...It's Marie, sir. Wh-" But she was cut short.

I had already hung up, and was busy dialing another number.

"...Tseng, fire Marie the receptionist. I want it done by tomorrow".

_Bitch_

I slowly rose from my seat, making my way to the window, which, I am told, is quite the view.

But I have long since been blind to nature and it's so called beauty.

Money is everything. Money can destroy, create and kill, and most importantly: heal. I have been condemned to the life of a recluse. A life of solitude and confinement. A prisoner in my own home. And while I live this poisoned life, I realize one thing: the judgement of others, affects us more than guilt or regret.

Think of it this way...

If I chose not to remain anonymous, and would openly support my cause...

Poeple would pity me.

Everyone would be 'Marie the receptionist'. Everyone would be sceptical, judgmental, and most importantly; everyone would be a bitch.

They would believe I was a sorry old man, who lived in regret, and wished every day that I had done things differently.

And they would be right, almost completely right, in fact.

But they forgot one thing. One thing, so important, one thing so important to _me_, that it has come to define me as a person: It defines my character. It is the very essence of why I am alive.

I have no regrets...

**And then there was only silence**

"Hey, Mr. Shinr-"

"Can it, Reno"


End file.
